


A Farewell To Arms

by auber_jean



Series: SASO 2015 Fills [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auber_jean/pseuds/auber_jean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After five years, Kise has set himself a life away from the past with the Generation of Miracles. But when Aomine reappears, Kise must make the choice whether to go on with his current life or revisit what he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Farewell To Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SASO 2015 Bonus Round #1. Prompted by oikawas for this quote:
> 
> _“Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again."_  
>  "Hell," I said, "I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?"  
> "Yes. I want to ruin you."  
> "Good," I said. "That's what I want too.”  
> \-- Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

Post high school, the Generation of Miracles had dispersed and gone their separate ways towards adulthood. Their legacy became a myth. One for the books to note a place in time where they were teenagers talented beyond their years. It was only a matter of time until their bodies gave up on them and all that was left were their minds to make different paths for themselves.

Kise had taken the future in stride. As soon as graduation past, he packed his bags and made himself the most desired face on every billboard in the country. Modelling was second nature and he embraced the world with a smile on his face and indifference on his lips. Basketball was left to the wayside, tucked deep and close to his heart along with the things that he never wanted to put a name to.

He kept in contact with Kuroko, messaging the other boy about his schedules with the usual light-hearted fanfare that kept his high school character like a familiar charm. Kuroko responded in kind, giving sparse but detailed updates on the rest of their friends. Momoi did the same, sending Kise messages to fill in the details about who was out doing what and why, without so much as a prompt from Kise himself. It had always been the two of them who strived to keep the Generation of Miracles together, and Kise cannot begrudge them for trying. And he’s sure that a part of them was expecting him to try and glue them back together instead of disappearing.

But Kise is long done with disappointments because he carries too much of them as it is.

 

——

 

When he meets Momoi at a cafe on one of his free days, she looks at him in earnest, eyes gleaming with the same concern that she had when they had all walked away from Teiko with their backs turned, never to look back. It’s the kind of look that makes Kise feel like he’s been brought back to the past and that the five years he’s grown hasn’t cemented itself against those memories.

“Why don’t you ask?” she says, voice forced down to something neutral.

He takes a sip of his latte, setting it down on the table, eyes watching as the liquid settles down from the movement. “I don’t need to, Momoicchi. You keep me well-informed as it is.” He feels his lips stretch into something akin to a smile, cracking at the corners.

Momoi stares at him, eyes gauging him with the same calculative skill that got him into this mess in the first place. “He asks about you, you know.”

“Yeah?” and Kise can barely keep himself from scoffing. “Because he’s never asked me himself.”

“What happened between you two?” Momoi finally asks Her hands circle around her tea cup, fingers woven together in patience and something heavily resigned. It’s a movement that Kise is used to seeing when Aomine would pull another one of his antics all throughout high school. But now, Kise wonders when those things became applicable to him too.

Kise is sure that Momoi has heard Aomine’s side of the story, questioned it enough without finding a sufficient answer. The two of them had always been close, and Kise has no reason to resent her for it. Aomine needs stability in the way that he himself has never has.

Kise smiles bitterly, taking a sip from his cup one more time. “I couldn’t tell you even if I tried.”

——

 

It’s a month later when he sees Momoi again. This time her voice is happy as she unloads a month’s worth of intel, sharing laughs with every anecdote to sugarcoat the bridge between them.

Towards the end of it, Momoi’s voice drops a tone lower to briefly mention that Aomine is back in town. She stares at Kise after the words are said, trying to read the lines on his face and gauge his reaction. But Kise has met this gaze for years and has fine-tuned himself to escape it when he truly wants to.

Instead, Kise breezes over the information with a wave of a hand and a silently buried hope that Momoi can’t tell the difference in his smile.

Later that day, Kise walks into another photoshoot sheathed in the Fall season’s new catalogue, and works each frame with downturned lips and a disinterested frown that reminds him of one person alone.

 

——

It’s at a product launch party that Kise sees Aomine again. And when their eyes meet, Kise feels the same twist in his stomach that warned him about fire and a game that would both swallow them whole.

Between magazine interviews and photoshoots lined up for days, Kise had forgotten about Momoi’s reminder; Kise can only curse himself slightly for being so obtuse about it. But he hasn’t made it through the entertainment business without learning how to school his behaviour into a hundred ways to suit him. Aomine or no Aomine, Kise is still working, and he can make a job out of everyone and anyone he wants.

But it’s Aomine who meets him halfway across the room, his face still pinched in the way that marks his constant state of annoyance. It’s not as charming as Kise remembers, and he appreciates the small victories in knowing that they’re no longer the same kids they were five years ago. He inwardly wishes that Aomine would think the same.

When Aomine is within hearing range, Kise lets himself smile, something with the same emotion he had years ago; young, naive and too much hope.

“Aominecchi,” he finds himself saying, the nickname slipping from his lips like a well-worn badge.

Aomine stops in his steps when they’re just a metre apart. His eyes are still stone cold, weathered with age and cynicism etched in like an armour. It’s the same magnetism that made Kise stick around despite it all.

“Kise,” Aomine nods in greeting.

“What are you doing here?”

“My sponsors wanted me to show up,” the other man grumbles, nodding towards the promotional photos of a sportswear brand that line the walls of the room. Kise almost laughs at himself because he doesn't know how he didn’t put two and two together earlier.  

Aomine, unlike the rest of the Generation of Miracles, had followed through with his basketball ambitions and had been steadily making his way through the ranks to play at pro-level. Momoi had mentioned his achievements here and there, but Kise had long learnt to avoid the major broadcasts and sent his congratulations in neutral gifts that could only resemble an indifferent acquaintance.

“You?”

“Making connections. My manager thinks I should expand into different brands.”

Aomine snorts in amusement. “Your face is already all over the city.”

Kise turns to him then, head tilted and eyes studying, trying to find something that could betray whatever Aomine is thinking. “Some people want to keep me around,” he says, levelly.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Aomine straighten.

****“You look well,” is what Aomine says after a minute.

And it takes all of Kise’s might not to callously scoff at the segue. “‘Well’, Aominecchi? Five years later and all you can say is ‘well’?”

Aomine goes still then, hands shoved in his pockets with the same false bravado and it pains Kise to realise that some things haven’t changed. “Is there something else you want me to say?”

Kise shrugs, taking a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, wrapping his fingers around it deftly before taking a sip to pass the time. He doesn’t know what he wants to hear, whether it’s an apology or a curse, neither of them have ever functioned in a way that could be considered normal. And now it hardly feels like the time to fix years of bridges burned.

“Don’t think too hard, Aominecchi. It doesn’t suit you,” Kise says after a while, avoiding the other man’s eyes.

The sounds of party go on behind them, drowned out to a faint murmur of background noise that only seems to fill the empty space between them. From the other side of the crowd, Kise can see his manager signalling to him with a frantic wave, probably concerning another potential advertising deal.

Kise downs the last of his champagne before depositing the empty flute on the tray of a passing waiter. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll see you around Aominecchi,” he says, giving a slight wave, and weaves through the crowd fast enough to never hear if Aomine calls after him.

——

It’s way past midnight when Kise returns to his apartment, feeling the tiredness spread through his body as he drags himself onto the couch.

Kise enjoys the parties in moderation, because it’s hard to work in the industry and not learn to have an affinity for mingling with the fashion world’s best and worst. He guards himself for it, calculating every encounter and every smile with a glimmer of earnestness and the skill of give and take— but now all he can think of is Aomine’s stare and weighted words.

He switches on the TV and scrolls through the channels of midnight television until the screen blurs under his sight. He presses the remote button once more as the TV switches itself to the sports channel, broadcasting the latest announcements for basketball and like a curse, Aomine’s face appears on screen with the details of his return and success.

Aomine answers the interview in the same way he always has, aloof and borderline annoyed that he has to bother with the press. But then a reporter asks—

_“What brought you back to Japan?”_

The digitised image of Aomine’s face frowns and there’s a flicker of emotion in his eyes that Kise can only associate with a history of wins and losses.

_“I have some unfinished business. That’s why I came back.”_

It’s then that Kise feels the rise of one too many drinks bunch at his throat, and he barely manages to pull himself off of the couch soon enough to reach the bathroom.

There’s a retch in his throat that has nothing to do with throwing up; instead his mouth is dry and his vision starts to blur.

But Kise can only stare at his reflection in the mirror, eyes squinting under the fluorescent lights, mouthing the words, _“Was it me?”_ over and over again until his breaths run short and he finally drags himself to bed.

 

——

Maybe there is a time and place for both of them where things would work out. Some parallel where the both of them weren’t bored by the way their lives never presented them a challenge.

When it comes down to it, Kise can’t remember who did all the chasing. It was always the two of them on this long plain of a semblance of a relationship, constantly treading the lines of rivalry and infatuation. And it’s that reality that hits Kise, because all that ever bound them together was the game, and it’s the only thing that they know how to do.

Maybe it wasn’t about who fell in love first, because by the end of it, they had both realised that they were in pieces from the start.

 

——

They run into each other a lot more after the party.

And Kise finds himself counting the times each week when Aomine appears at a brand meeting or at a broadcasting station for a TV show filming. At first, he hopes it’s just a sick joke and it’s only for the period of hype surrounding Aomine’s return. But it’s only after almost three months of silent nods and unspoken conversations that cloud over them, that Kise has enough.

It’s after a design meeting that Kise pulls Aomine away to the broadcasting station rooftop. The sounds of their feet echo as they scale the stairs, and in the back of Kise’s mind, he wonders if it was always this easy to get Aomine to follow him. Instead he shakes off the thought, fingers burning as he shuts the metal door closed.

“You can’t do this, Aominecchi,” Kise says, exasperated as he finally meets the other man’s eyes. “You can’t just keep appearing at my workplaces like you have a right to be there.”

Aomine stares back, lips tight. “If I don’t, when will I see you? You don’t answer any of my calls, Kise. What are you trying to do?”

“Don’t make this my fault. Don’t you fucking dare,” Kise bites out, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

“Then is it mine?” Aomine asks, face frowning. “We both left, Kise. It wasn’t just me.”

Kise knows that Aomine is right, and for once he can’t pretend that he didn’t separate from the rest of them as a precursor to being left behind first. But whether it’s enough of a means to let the both of them to try to mend the fragmented relationship that lies between them, Kise doesn’t want to think of it.

The silence stretches between them, and from below the building they can hear the sounds of slow convoyed traffic crawling by. But to Kise it all becomes background static, and he barely registers how many turns of the changing traffic signals pass.

“Just— let me be around, okay,” Aomine starts tentatively, as if he’s still trying to string the words together. “I’m shit at this and I can’t fix things straight away.”

Kise scoffs, “There’s nothing to fix with me, Aominecchi. Fix yourself.”

“Is that how you want to do this?” Aomine calls back, voice raising in the way that he never really grew out of. “I’m trying, Kise. This is me _trying_ for fuck’s sake.”

“Look, if Momoi put you up to this—“ Kise finds himself saying, mumbling excuses as they come along.

“ _Kise,_ ” Aomine says, just above a whisper. He steps forward, until there’s only a small space between them. “I want to do this.”

Kise meets his eyes, flat and heavy. “We don’t end well, you know that.”

“You don’t want to run as much as you say you do, Kise. I know that at least,” Aomine says, voice firm. And Kise doesn’t want to put a time to when the both of them became transparent to each other, and he’s never hated it more.

Kise feels his shoulders sink, struggling to keep his face straight because he doesn’t want to lose— not this time. “So what will happen then, Aominecchi? What are you looking for?” he asks, voice resigned. He’s so tired of fighting.

“You,” Aomine says simply, as if that’s all it really is and that there isn’t a rift between them. But Aomine has always been simple-minded and Kise knows that the other man’s stance won’t change.

Kise wants to laugh but his mouth just feels dry, and the words leave his mouth without anger. “It won’t be easy.”

“That’s too bad then,” Aomine mutters as he reaches for Kise’s hand, his body slack in mild defeat, but the clarity in his voice still strong. “Because I’m in love with you anyway.”

Kise feels the cool slide of Aomine’s skin against the palm of his hand like both a grim reminder and a flicker of a promise. He lets out a deep breath, the barest rise at the corner of his lips as he uses his free hand to turn Aomine’s face to him.

“Okay,” he says, voice breathless before pressing the faintest of kisses against the corner of Aomine’s lips. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to arsenicjay for beta and cheering me on, despite knowing nothing about KnB canon :P


End file.
